Sunday, September 19, 2021

The Flood by Don Taco

 


The Flood

  

  

For forty days and forty nights,

the waters poured down from the skies.

It was much worse than all the locusts.

It was much worse than all the flies.

It was much worse than when the waters 

in all the rivers turned to blood.

It was much worse than losing Junior.

It was the worst.  It was the flood.


The Lord looked down and spoke to Noah,

the last good man that I have found.

Son, grab your taperule and your toolbelt.

Donít waste your time on higher ground.

You see these weather patterns changing.

The skies are cloudy, grey, and dark.

Donít ride the donkey up the mountain.

Get off your ass and build an ark.


Then gather two of every creature.

Yes, even locusts, flies, and frogs.

Donít get too hoarse with all your shouting.

Itís already raining cats and dogs.

Collect some sons and wives and daughters.

Hand out some shovels, brooms, and mops.

Have a nice trip!  Donít drink the water!

And pray someday this flooding stops.


Then God said, "Can I get a witness?"

Then God said, "Noah!  Thatís your cue!"

Tell all the people God means business.

When thereís someone to tell, but you.

Go, sin no more, son, I implore you.

The punishment must fit the crime.

Thereíll be no more floods, I assure you.

But that still leaves the fire next time.


Pay no attention to the raven.

He learned that story from the crow.

Heís out there looking for a haven,

as if there was some place to go.

The dove will bless the land it comes to,

between a hard place and a stone.

And lead you from your floating home to

this brave new world youíll face alone.


For forty days and forty nights,

the waters poured down from the skies.

It was much worse than all the locusts.

It was much worse than all the flies.

It was much worse than when the waters 

in all the rivers turned to blood.

It was much worse than losing Junior.

It was the worst.  It was the flood.


Live for the rainbow, not the mud.


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